Coming Back to Ohio 2013. Part 2

Dateline 8^th November 2013 10:15am Heathrow Terminal 3.

The bar. I forget its name but it welcomes me back warmly it seems. Heathrow is heaving. I suppose because it is a Friday and I usually travel midweek. I struggle to find a seat but eventually a couple leave and I grab the table.

ref=”https://wordyrappinghood.wordpress.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/11/0811201315854.jpg”> Good view.[/ca

I always get one where I can keep an eye on the departures board as I imbibe my pre-flight medication. I guess the early morning valium has worn off by now so I have a beer. Stella Artois. The first one hardly touches the side as it goes down. I feel my jangling nerves start to calm. I people watch as I drink. A favourite occupation of mine. I grab a second beer and strike up a conversation with two guys waiting for their flight to Bangkok, Thailand. Their flight takes 19 hours so I console myself that mine only lasts 7.

Boarding starts at 11:30 so I take my traditional G&T. The second hits the spot and by now my pre-flight nerves have subsided. Well as much as they are going to and so I make my way to my flight. I always travel Air Canada to Ohio. It is so much quicker than the others and I like them.

I enter the metal encased coffin known as an Airbus A330 and find my seat. Always an aisle seat as far from the window as possible. (I know I am a coward but I still sneak quick peaks from the windows as we take off) I am immensely pleased to find I have an entire row of 4 seats to myself. Also the seats in front are empty… Bonus.

I pack my hand luggage away and try to gaze nonchalantly around. I try to give an impression of calm world traveller. I partly succeed. But now the worst part. The point of no return. The engines spool up and we begin the bumpy slow trip towards our take-off runway.

I close my eyes as the pilot informs us we are about to take-off. The engines whine. Flaps and air brakes are tested … then we are off. God knows how many tons of metal and humanity hurtle towards oblivion … OK the end of the runway. I feel the nose lift. The bump of the wheels on tarmac stops and we are airborne. I sneak a peek out of the window to see Heathrow disappearing below me. No one seems to talk during take-off. The sun streams in through the windows.

My first relief. The seatbelt sign dings off. The stewardesses start to dish up grub … and thank gawd wine. Nice lovely wine to top up my alcohol system. I like Air Canada as I said previously, one of the reasons being that they dish out further free wine on request although I do have something stronger in my laptop bag.

rdyrappinghood.files.wordpress.com/2013/11/0111201315840.jpg”> In flite medication.

[/caption]I eat my spag bol … not bad and my bean salad …ok and my large choccy cookie … yummie. My first wine has joined my lunch and I ask for another with my coffee. It duly appears. I have unpacked the laptop bag. I have my mp3 player and my Kindle. I never use them when flying but I bring them anyway. I find myself mostly gazing at the seatback TV screen progress map willing us to just bloody get there quickly and in one piece. I have my secret stash to hand too. Four miniatures of whiskey. Ready and available on demand. I feel a warm glow. I drank 2 of them.

My flight? Well it passes uneventfully. No turbulence, no explosions, no beturbanned terrorists sending us all to perdition. Pretty boring really.

Time passes slowly but eventually we come in to land at Toronto. No snow, sun shining, smooth landing. I am content as we exit the plane but I know my sternest test lies ahead. The American Border patrol is waiting. I grit my teeth and head towards them……

nghood.files.wordpress.com/2013/11/0811201315858.jpg”> Leaving my chariot behind.

[/caption]To be continued …

© 2013 Stan M Rogers. All rights reserved.

BACK TO COLUMBUS OHIO…AGAIN. 2013.

“Here we go again.” I thought.

4am last Friday morning and I am up. My nerves are jangling but I greedily swallow my Valium and prepare for my trip back to Ohio USA and my Raven.

My baby rang me to make sure I didn’t oversleep. Fat chance of that. I hardly slept at all. My half dreams were filled by the sound of twisted tortured metal as my plane disintegrates in mid-air due to terrorist bombs, engine fires, pilot errors or even all three. I see wings falling off, engines exploding. Meteorites striking the plane. You name the horror flying scenario, I dreamt it.

But hey-ho. I have to go. Nothing keeps me away from O-hi-o…

And so back to my usual routine. Red hot shower, coffee and croissant to wash down the diazepam and bags ready for my 5:15 taxi. Last hug and kiss for my mum and I’m away. My gaudily decorated luggage which has aroused a few guffaws is loaded into the taxi and I am away into the cold dark early morning.

I am early getting away I know. My flight isn’t till midday but there is no way I’m gonna miss it. This means that not long after dawn I am dropped off at terminal 3 Heathrow Airport with 5 hours to kill.

Time for a puff and a Costa’s coffee but the inconsiderate buggers at Heathrow have moved Costa’s upstairs so first move is to check in the luggage. I am sure I hear a titter from the check in clerk as he espies my gaily be-flowered cases. But he doesn’t seem to notice they are both a little overweight and off they go to Toronto. That’s if they survive the likely conflagration I am still imagining.

Coffee. I need coffee (well in truth I need a stiff gin and tonic) so off to Costa’s I go. Large coffee obtained and outside again for the first of many smokes.

I wander the airport aimlessly between smokes until eventually 10:00 am arrives and I decide to go through to departures. This time I am pleasantly surprised. I retain my shoes and belt as I go through security. Both laptops out though and thank god no beeps as I pass through the metal detector, they even decline to ‘wand’ me. And on to duty free.

Now I do wonder why I bother but I buy 200 fruity dees. Pall Mall which at $4.60 a pack are still more expensive than in the states. But well… it’s traditional isn’t it. Duty free fags. Part of the fun of travel. I don’t bother with booze. It will only be taken off me at Toronto for my next flight. I learnt that lesson on my way back from the Seychelles at Paris CDG in 2008 when some grinning Froggy goon confiscated my litre of Stolichnaya, the bastard.

Anyway. I digress. Fags in hand I make my way to the bar for the second part of my flight medication. Beer and G&T’s.

Ahhhhh. The joys of travel.

……. To be continued.

 

© 2013 Stan M Rogers. All rights reserved.

GOING BACK TO OHIO….. I HOPE!

Trepidation. Fantastic word that and I was feeling it badly. The night before I flew back to the States and my lovely Raven but I remembered all of the problems I had back in October. Remembering how the US Border Patrol hadn’t let me in which had led to one night in Toronto before getting the morning flight back to the UK. Two transatlantic flights in 24 hours … for a guy who is terrified of flying? Would it happen again? Hopefully not!

EEK!

 

So Thursday 6^th of January. I had set my alarm for 04:45am but I was awake long before that. I had hardly slept. My early night hadn’t happened and I’d been up till midnight drinking a few whiskies to calm the nerves. It hadn’t worked but at least I hoped my lack of sleep would mean I could sleep some on the flight. Raven called me just in case I overslept but I was already drinking tea and enjoying my first ciggy of the day by then. So that was it. I took my valium and hit the shower. I took my time as it was an hour before the taxi arrived.

 

The taxi ride to Heathrow was pretty hair raising even with the valium. My friend Glen who usually takes me picked me up on time and we set off to the airport. It was still dark and the roads were wet. Unfortunately Glen had a couple of problems with the car. It was veering to the left … suspension or something and the windscreen washers didn’t work. Hairy stuff on the motorway and more than a few times I thought we were going to broadside cars that we overtook especially as his only method of screen cleaning was squirting water from a drinks bottle out of the window. Now that would’ve been ironic. To die in a taxi ON THE WAY TO THE AIRPORT… I was a quivering wreck but at last it started to rain. No need to squirt the screen anymore at least although the veering continued not helped by Glen hand rolling smokes as we shuddered along the motorway at 80 miles per hour.

TERMINAL 3 MORNING.

 

But we arrived safely at last and with lots of time to spare. I booked in my cases and headed of to Costa Coffee to guzzle coffee and smoke. I prayed to the gods of aeronautical engineering as I sat there and started my countdown till take-off. No hurry as once I checked in I wouldn’t be able to smoke again till North America. I did have a nicotine inhalator but they are small consolation and incomparable to the calming effects of real smoke. But eventually I stubbed out that last smoke and entered the world of airport security … check-in time.

COSTA'S AT TERMINAL 3.

 

It hasn’t changed. Shoes off, belt off, laptop out and wait for the inevitable beep as I go through the body scanner. Usually it’s the rivets on my Levis and yep. I get the wand and eventually I get through. The security lady takes my miniatures of Glenfiddich away “to carry out tests” and I sweat for a moment in case my in-flight medication is confiscated but it seems OK. I even ask her to check if it is really 15 years old. I re-dress and go through to duty free. No point in buying booze. It would be confiscated before my connecting flight but I do stock up on ciggies. 200 of Virginia’s best for this guy before hitting the bar to stock up on courage.

IN FLIGHT MEDICATION.

 

First a pint of lager, Stella Artois, I think followed by gin and tonics and finally a gin and coke. That feeling of calm eventually comes over me and I sit back to enjoy people watching. It’s a busy morning at terminal 3 so there are plenty to watch. I love people watching. It is usually more interesting than TV and I try to imagine peoples stories as I look around. The possibilities are endless but that’s another story and I head off at last to the Air Canada departure gate for my midday flight, by now full of bonhomie… oh and booze.

BUSY DAY AT HEATHROW.

 

We all board our Air Canada flight without incident. An Airbus, nice but with the usual lack of legroom. I find my seat and settle back in readiness for take-off. The fear starts to rise again within me but it’s too late now. I’m past the point of no return and so I look forward to some in-flight medication. Take off time comes … and passes. The pilot apologises but after 40 minutes sitting on the taxiway we eventually move towards our runway. At last. The pilot does his final checks. The usual bumps and groans from various aircraft parts. Oh my gawd I pray that none fall off. I gulp and feel the sweatiness of my hands and then … take off. I hate it. I can’t even listen to my mp3 player nowadays. Not allowed until we are airborne. The engines roar and we start to hurtle forward to certain doom I think. I feel every bump on the runway and then …. smoothness. The Airbus rises against the laws of gravity and reason and one shit scared Englishman is aloft. I sneak peek out of the port hole and see Terra firma and safety slipping away below me. I sigh in relief as it seems my life isn’t going to end in a fireball at the end of the runway and I look forward to my first shot of in flight courage.

 

Canada here I come ….

Into the land of the Beaver.

HEATHROW TO CANADA…AND BACK IN ONE DAY.

Well finally. The day had arrived. Last Tuesday 19^th October my time to fly had arrived. Oh yes I had encountered the fear as usual. Even the day before I had panicked so much that a Valium was used. But here I was. 6:00 am on a cold October morning and waiting for my taxi to Heathrow.

 

Me and my Raven.

But apart from the fear there was also a great sense of joy. Just mere hours and I would be with my Raven once more. Warm and safe in her loving arms. I tried to let the joy overrule my fear and slowly it worked as I travelled to the airport. The usual continuous M25 roadworks delayed us but I’d allowed plenty of time. My flight wasn’t till just after midday. Dawn cracked the sky on the way down and there was more joy in the clear blue sky and sunshine. One fear less I thought happily. No raging storms or inclement weather to complicate my take-off at least and before long I was paying off my driver and loading my two bulky suitcases onto an airport trolley courtesy of Terminal 3 at Heathrow. I checked my luggage in, paying the extra thirty pounds for my surplus suitcase and then off to Costa’s for coffee. I took it outside to enjoy one of my last cigarettes before flying.

Costa's at Terminal 3 Heathrow.

 

Before long the fear hit me again. Watching the continuous stream of aircraft taking off above me gave me the jitters … how the hell can those damned things fly without falling out of the sky? But … well I swallowed a Valium with my second cappuccino and what felt like my fiftieth fag and smiled. “Too late now Rogers, I told myself, no quitting now.” And I walked into the terminal to check in.

Eek! Here we go...

 

It was the usual. I bought 200 Camels in Duty Free and strolled to the security gates. That ritual is so familiar to me now. Laptop out, belt off, jacket off, keys, phones, wallets into the tray and walk through the arch …. beeppppppppp. Waved over with the wand and through to air side. Next job? … alcohol to snuggle comfortably alongside the Valium in my fearful tummy. Bar found, pint of Stella Artois … mission accomplished. I rang friends and Dani my daughter. I called Raven and heard her sleepy voice. Sometimes just talking on the phone makes me forget the terror and soon it was time. I swallowed my last Gin and Tonic (V.Large) and ambled off to my Air Canada departure gate.

Ahhhh...medication.

 

And before long I am aboard. My pre-booked seat is close to the emergency exit … ha. Also the flight is half empty so I have two vacant seats next to me … joy. I call my friend Les because I can but before long we start to taxi and it’s phones off time. I have three so it takes a little while. We sit awaiting take-off and we sit and wait and wait. Half an hours delay but at last we line up on the main runway.

Air Canada A330 Airbus

 

All is quiet … pilot welcomes us aboard … and YES ….. The engines spool up the pilot checks the flaps and then we start to hurtle along the runway. We build up speed and I can feel every last crack on the tarmac. Then just as I think we aren’t going to make it … we lift off. Yehaaaaaa … the Columbus Cowboy is airborne. Shit scared but aloft at last and on my way to my baby after four months of wasted time in the UK. The usual ear popping and clammy palms. Ass cheeks tightly clenched, breathing on hold but then. OMG the seat belt signs click off the plane starts to turn and we are on our way. The cabin crew get busy serving us lunch. Chicken or beef? I take beef although I defy anyone to guess that on a blind taste test and more joy … free booze with my dinner. I accept a bottle of airline wine and glug it nervously but the way I look at it now is it’s too late to worry. I can’t get off if I even wanted too and so I sit back to ‘enjoy’ the flight.

Air Canada Seatback Entertainment.

 

Glory be the flight is smooth. No turbulence just the steady roar of the Airbus engines and I open one of my miniature malt whiskies after lunch and settle back to enjoy the in-flight entertainment on the seat back video screen. I try to concentrate on The Karate Kid but by ten minutes in I am bored. I try listening to music. I try to sleep but no chance. I keep clicking onto the flight map trying to will us closer to Canada. Height 39,000 feet. Air speed 560 mph. Outside air temp minus 70F. Bloody parky then but at least the knowledge that in the event of disaster I’ll freeze to death before hitting the bloody Atlantic Ocean. Hush Rogers it ain’t going to happen. I open another Scotch. I almost watch The A-Team. And the little plane on the map slowly gets closer to Toronto. Over Labrador and Quebec. I flip the bird to the Quebecois as we fly overhead and before long my ears start to pop as we descend into Toronto. I look at my watch and realising it is still on UK time I adjust it. Not easy as it has 4 buttons and I need 3 to change it. After going through several world time zones … sorted and we land in Toronto Pearson International Airport 15 minutes early at 14:45 pm local time

And my ordeal began ….

© 2010 Stan Rogers. All rights reserved.